i think that mr teoh is getting funnier and funnier. he kept making fun of the boys. he didn't do that last year. he appeared strict and stern, but actually not. during his lessons, he will deliberately choose those people who are daydreaming. i am glad he didn't call me today because i was sleeping in his class. =P it was quite boring and exhausting to study for whole three periods. he will smirk if they don't know the answers. after the lessons, he called "captain benson" to carry the books down for him. news spread fast. "captain benson" has become prominent.

during english lesson, mrs howard read out the first composition we have done this year. we were to write a short description about one of our classmates. most of the people wrote about the popular "captain benson". patrick wrote very humorously. xx told me before that he can speak excellent English. i was shocked. i had always thought that he speaks chinese more often. i'm amazed at the fluent English he can write. it changed my view on him. =P

jovial wrote about patrick. he wrote that patrick reminds him of a chinese delicacy called the 'ba gua'. when mrs howard mentioned about the description of the spectacles and the water bottle, everyone had guessed that it was patrick. it's fun during english lesson today.

xx's work also gets picked out. she wrote about joo leng, with her "wavy hair" and her "olive-looked-liked face". everyone laughed upon the olive-looked-liked face. we had teased joo leng upmteen times about her face and would ask her where's her popeye. =)

everybody can write so well. xx was commended by mrs howard. the guys' essays got read out, ss was commended, wl can write so fast and jan has great vocabulary. i feel inferior compared to them. maybe i can beat them in chinese, but i really have to "pull up my socks" for English. this phrase reminds me of jovial. he said, "schools should allow us to wear ankle-length socks, so that when we have bad results, we can pull up our socks." it's so funny... :)

oh my goodness!!! anyone's there to help me??? i'm starting to get addicted to playing gunbound. i should have resisted the temptation to even start playing it. now, i can't stop myself from playing it everyday. oh my goodness...

we held a farewell party for mrs howard today. there should have been touching scenes with crying girls hugging the teacher, but surprisingly, there wasn't. iI don't even feel the slightest bit that i'll miss mrs howard. she's been a great teacher so far, but i don't think she has changed my life in any way. god bless her.

.:~*CHINESE NEW YEAR EVE*~:.

rach kept telling me lame jokes during cme lessons. the jokes rach told me were racist. she asked, "what is an indian man with a pile of shit on his shoulder called?" and "what is an indian man surrounded by piles of shit called?" i don't find it that hilarious now, but i don't understand what exactly makes me laugh so hardly in class. maybe it's because of the way tl asked me. it lightens my mood, though. i'm not going to type the answers out because i don't think it's very polite. you can guess if you want to.

i think i like wednesdays. they pass so quickly. there weren't much events happening today. during assembly, tl kept smiling at me. she kept laughing for no reasons again. when she's in a high mood, she tends to laugh uncontrollably at me. she always said i look funny. i wonder how my mum managed to make my face until it looks so hilarious. :P

i reached home after the choir meeting today. it wasn't the normal time i was supposed to reach home. ningxin pulled me and yanz along and we had to wait for ms chan to reply us whether we have to help her to pack the gowns in the music studio. ms yeo was there earlier and she had even wanted us to help her wipe the cupboards. ms. chan made faces at her after she had left. i hope deep down that they would postpone the day, so me and yanz would not have to wipe those dirty and dusty cupboards. ms yeo's so nasty. why can't she ask the harp members to help her wipe? anyway, we're sharing the room. why must she choose to be in the room when we were there? she's so biased.

my whole family went out today. we went to many places. today's the only day i feel that new year's coming. we went out early in the morning with my aunts to buy new year goodies. i felt vivacious and high-spirited.

i bought the 'gan1 shi4 zi3' to eat. i like it. it's soft and sweet. there's not a lot of fibres which couldn't be bitten. it's the nicest i've ever eaten so far. :) we bought a lot of sweets and tidbits there. sis and dad kept saying, "this is nice. that is nice too." in the end, we bought on basketful of tidbits. my mum can do nothing about us.

my sis passed by this blog and i happened to see this poem. hm.. i was so elated. this is the poem in 'turn right, turn left' movie.



Wislawa Szymborska - "Love at First Sight"
Both are convinced that
a sudden surge of emotion bound them together.
Beautiful is such a certainty,
but uncertainty is more beautiful.

Because they didn't know each other earlier,
they suppose that nothing was happening between them.
What of the streets, stairways and corridors
where they could have passed each other long ago?

I'd like to ask them whether they remember--
perhaps in a revolving door ever being face to face?
an "excuse me" in a crowd
or a voice "wrong number" in the receiver.
But I know their answer:
no, they don't remember.

They'd be greatly astonished
to learn that for a long time
chance had been playing with them.

Not yet wholly ready to transform into fate for them
it approached them, then backed off,
stood in their way and, suppressing a giggle,
jumped to the side.
There were signs, signals:
but what of it if they were illegible.
Perhaps three years ago,or last Tuesday
did a certain leaflet fly from shoulder to shoulder?
There was something lost and picked up.
Who knows but what it was a ball in the bushes of childhood.

There were doorknobs and bells on
which earlier touch piled on touch.
Bags beside each other in the luggage room.
Perhaps they had the same dream on a certain night,
suddenly erased after waking.

Every beginning is but a continuation,
and the book of events is never more than half open.